


Seeing Double

by owlaholic68



Series: Evil Karma Carla [6]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 2
Genre: Doppelganger, Evil Twins, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-06-23 23:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15617253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: Chosen One Carla meets a version of herself who has gone horribly wrong. What will she have to do to protect herself and those she cares about from this twisted monster of a woman?





	1. Chapter 1

Carla doesn’t know how it happens. She doesn’t know why. However, she does know the what, when, and where:

What: An impossible occurrence. Where: in the middle of New Reno. When: a mere week after Carla joined the Wright Family, on a Tuesday in March, four thirty-two P.M.

It’s like she trips on a loose stone in the fabric of reality. Everything around her wobbles then settles, Carla’s vision blurring for a second before stabilizing.

“Ah!” She runs into someone and recoils backwards, almost making Lenny run into her back. “Sorry-”

Carla is looking at herself. And herself is staring right back at her. But not exactly herself. There are small differences. Her counterpart has her long black hair unbraided, instead falling loose to her waist. There are less scars on her face and arms, but her skin is tanner. There’s something harder in her eyes, and she looks more tired. Or maybe Carla herself looked tired too, and she just never noticed. This Carla is also wearing power armor, which is weird for the middle of New Reno where most people are barely wearing enough to cover the necessary parts of their bodies. Carla herself is in her vault suit with a trailing skirt and leather jacket on top.

“What the fuck…” Other Carla reaches out to touch Carla’s shoulder. Her hand feels real. “What in the actual fuck.”

“C-Carla what’s going on-”

“C-Carla what’s happening-”

Lenny looks around Carla’s shoulder, just as an identical Lenny peeks around the other Carla. _That_ Lenny gasps and grabs his Carla’s arm, as she puts an arm around his shoulders.

 _Her_ Lenny looks between the two Carlas, then his eyes flutter and he faints. Carla yelps and awkwardly catches him. Other Carla starts forward as if to catch him too, while Other Lenny looks like he’s trying not to pass out too.

“Okay.” Carla takes a deep breath and heaves Lenny’s limp form so she’s carrying him bridal-style. “Okay. Alright. Let’s talk at the car. We’ll figure out what is going on here. Somehow.”

“Agreed.” Other Carla and Other Lenny follow her the short distance to the car.

In the corner, a junkie stares at them, whispering to himself: “Maybe I should lay off the Jet for a while. This is a real wild trip…”

* * *

“So we can’t keep calling each other the same name,” Carla muses. All four of them are sitting in the the Highwayman on top of the folded-down seats. Lenny is back among the living again, leaning against her shoulder and staring at his own counterpart.

Other Carla nods. “That’s true. My Len can be, well, Len, I suppose.”

There’s something about the way she says _“my_ Len” that doesn’t sound quite right in her mouth, like it’s not just the Lenny from _her_ reality. Carla nods anyways. “And I suppose we could just say your – or our – name differently. Put the accent on the second syllable. Car- _la_ instead of _Car-_ la.”

“Why should I change my name and not you?”

“Because this is _my_ universe, not yours?” Carla takes a joking tone, but it _is_ true. She’s not the visitor here.

“Is it?” Karla challenges. It’s easier for Carla to think her name like that, instead of trying to mentally parse out the new pronunciation. “How can we know for sure?” She holds up her index finger. “Actually, wait, I might be able to tell. There should be differences.” She reaches over to the glove compartment and opens it, rummaging around. She doesn’t seem to find whatever she’s looking for. “Hm. I guess you’re right.”

Lenny speaks up. “So w-what next?” He asks.

Karla looks at him thoughtfully, then her gaze returns to Carla. “I don’t know how we got here, so there’s nothing to do but go along with whatever you’re doing. Where are you headed?”

“The NCR capitol. Tandi called us to take care of some business. We were going to stop by Broken Hills and pick up Marcus, but…” Carla trails off and looks at the available seat space. “It’s already a full house in here.”

* * *

They’ve just passed the broken-down gas station that marks the halfway point from New Reno to the NCR when Karla speaks up from the passenger seat. “Who’s Marcus?” She asks.

Carla gives her a sideways glance. “Marcus? Sheriff of Broken Hills? Does he not travel with you?”

“Marcus, Marcus.” Karla frowns and looks over her shoulder. “Len, was there a Marcus in Broken Hills?”

“Yeah, I t-think so?” This Len is very quiet, almost hard to hear. Carla’s heard him say a handful of sentences in this whole car trip, and only in response to something that Karla has asked him. “He h-had a minigun.”

Karla snaps her fingers. “Oh yeah, that’s right! Super mutant with a minigun. I kind of remember him now! Tough fella.”

“So why isn’t h-he travelling w-with you?” Lenny asks.

“Oh, he’s dead.” The way that Karla says it, so flippantly, makes Carla’s stomach turn over. Karla must see how Carla and Lenny are looking at her, because she frowns. “Is yours…not?”

“No. You killed him? Why?”

Karla’s tone of voice implies that what she’s saying should be common knowledge. “Because the mutants had a whole conspiracy going on to kill all of the humans. It was necessary, to protect everyone in the town.”

“Oh.” Carla has a feeling she doesn’t want to understand her counterpart’s logic. “Um, we found a peaceful solution to that.”

“Really? Oh.” Karla looks at her like she’s never heard of the idea of peacefully resolving something before.

* * *

That night in the NCR capitol, Carla’s morally-ambiguous twin corners her just outside of the hotel where they’re staying just off the downtown area. Len and Lenny have gone up to the room already.

“Could I borrow, um, you know…” Karla looks at her like Carla should know what she’s talking about.

“No, I don’t know? Borrow what?”

There’s something bone-deeply unnerving about looking at Karla’s face, and it’s not just because they share the same facial features. “Handcuffs, if you have a spare pair. Or some rope would do, I guess, if it wasn’t too rough. It’s, you know, I don’t need a lot, just a foot or so.”

Apparently, they’ve skipped past some explanation station on this train ride. “Handcuffs? Rope? Why? For who?”

Now Karla is looking at her like _she’s_ the one who’s talking nonsense. “For Len? Who else?” She waves a hand. “Anyways, do you have any or not?”

“No, I don’t, and I think you need to explain-”

“No, it’s fine. Forget about it.” Karla turns away from her and jogs up the stairs. Carla furrows her brow and follows.

Something weird is going on here.


	2. Chapter 2

Ghouls don’t need to sleep a lot, so Lenny only dozes a few hours before he’s awake again. He carefully disentangles himself from Carla, who needs all the rest she can get. She murmurs something and shifts, and he quickly replaces his body with his pillow, which satiates her.

He has a few hours until dawn to entertain himself. He could try to make sense of that old science manual that Carla’s been struggling through, or mend some of his socks.

Instead, his eyes fall upon his counterpart. Len is still sleeping with Carla curled up around and almost on top of him. Her fingers are curled around his wrists, holding them together. Weird way to sleep.

Len doesn’t look that much different from him, not as much as Carla’s alternate twin does. The main difference, Lenny realized after spending half a day with him, is his body language. Len shrinks. He cowers, he does this thing with his hands that clearly telegraphs his nervousness. He doesn’t talk, hardly at all. Is it the stutter? Does that bother him more than it does Lenny? Or is he just anxious about being in this unfamiliar and frankly mind-boggling situation?

Lenny doesn’t know, but he promises himself to keep a close eye on his counterpart.

* * *

Heading west out of the NCR, they come upon trouble. A group of centaurs and floaters, who all turn their mutated heads at the sound of the engine. Carla and her twin trade a glance, then Carla skids the car to a stop and they jump out, weapons in hand.

“Wait, w-where are you going-” Len grabs Lenny’s arm as he prepares to follow, pistol in hand.

“What do you – do you mean?” He asks. “I’m going to h-help them.”

Lenny didn’t think this was a particularly controversial or weird idea, but Len is staring at him like he’s grown three heads. “You w-what? You fight-”

The whole car rocks as a centaur throws itself against the door on Len’s side. It sticks its canine head in the open window and barks at them, its long teeth dripping with saliva. Len yelps and scrambles more or less into Lenny’s lap.

“I’ve got i-it!” Lenny crawls over him and draws his knife. He stabs it into the head, dragging it down until it stops moving. With a labored grunt, he jerks the knife out and sets it aside, pulling out his gun to shoot the humanoid head, which shrieks and recoils. Lenny leans out the window and shoots it again. It falls to the ground, dead, its many limbs still twitching.

“You good, Lenny?” Carla calls to him between punches.

“Yeah!” Lenny shouts back. He turns to Len, who is on the floor of the Highwayman. “Hey, a-are you okay?”

Len is badly shaking, one hand gripping the edge of the seat so badly his withered knuckles pop out. He’s skinnier than Lenny is, though it’s hard to tell, since both of them are bony and small, even for ghouls. He jerkily nods and swallows hard, his eyes wide. He takes a deep breath and nods again, more certain.

 _Resilient,_ is the first word that comes to Lenny’s mind. _Scared, but pushing through it._

“C-Come on.” Lenny helps him to sit back up on the seat. “Could you w-watch for more on this side? I-I’ll keep them off o-over here.”

Len nods again and settles on the other side of the car. “You c-can fight?” He repeats his earlier question.

“Y-Yeah, I mean, I – I’m still learning, and I c-can’t do the kinds of things that C-Carla can,” he’s rambling again, but it’s just so weird. He’s talking to himself, but he also isn’t. “But I’m d-decent with a gun now, and g-getting better with knives. W-What about you?”

“Huh?” Len turns from the window. Outside, the fight winds down. “W-What do you mean? I don’t fight.”

“Really? But-”

Their Carlas return, and the conversation is set aside. But, as Lenny looks at his doppelganger again, he realizes that he’s not armed. At all. Not even a knife or a small gun. Sure, Lenny himself isn’t packing serious heat, but he could at least defend himself if push came to shove.

“Nice shot.” Carla comes over to his side of the car, leaning her elbows on the window’s edge. She looks up and over his head to where their other selves are locked in a deep kiss. It does something funny to Lenny’s heart, like he’s intruding on something he shouldn’t, like he’s looking at himself, a fly on the wall.

Weird. It’s just weird. Still, he can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. Two hundred years of surviving things that kill most people have made him paranoid, too observant.

* * *

They stop over at Vault 13. From what the other Carla says, at least she didn’t kill everyone in here. To be fair, not many people would be enthusiastic to go up against a vault full of Deathclaws. They greet Gruthar and update him on the very strange situation.

There is a spare room with two large beds that has been left empty, and the group claims it.

“I’m going to head to the showers,” Carla says, throwing her bag on the ground and stretching. “You guys wanna come with?”

“Maybe later. Len, you should go with her.” Karla smiles and gives Lenny a significant look. Even though this isn’t _his_ Carla, he still knows that it means she’d like to speak to him about something in private.

“I’ll c-catch up,” Lenny says. Carla gives him an unsure look, then nods and puts an arm around Len’s shoulders, promising to show him where they are.

“Lenny.” His name sounds both familiar and strange in _this_ Carla’s mouth. She pats the quilt next to her, a clear invitation to sit. He does, keeping a little further away than he normally would. There’s something about her that is setting off some internal alarm. “Lenny, darlin’, what’s wrong with your Carla?”

He frowns. “W-What?”

She reaches out and grabs his shoulder. Not hard, but it’s more than a simple touch. “She can’t protect you well enough that you have to _try_ and fight yourself? You can’t hardly fire a gun, and she’s making you shoot monsters? Stab things? You’re a doctor, what is she even thinking?”

Well, now he feels terrible about his own skills. Just a few simple words, and Karla makes it sound like he’s a _baby,_ like there’s not even a point to him trying to learn. He’s getting better. He _is._ “I-I-I’m learning-”

“Are you?” Karla challenges. “You’re good at medicine, Lenny. Stick to what you know. Your place is at Carla’s side to heal her, not on the battlefield _fighting._ Besides, what situation would even occur where Carla wouldn’t be right there to protect you?” She rubs his shoulder.

How does she find the one thing that he feels insecure about, and force it open like a carpenter splitting open a piece of wood by hammering a screwdriver into a crack? Is this why her Len doesn’t fight, because he quite simply never learned how? Because Carla told him that he would be terrible no matter what he did?

What kind of partner is she, that she actively puts her partner down and discourages them from trying to improve themselves? The alarm bells in his head start clanging with more intensity. Does Karla say things like this to her Len all the time? She may sound nice, like she’s just trying to help, but hearing that sort of discouraging message over and over…

Lenny forces a smile. He _is_ learning. He _is_ getting better at fighting. He straightens his back, not having even been aware that he’s been slouching, subconsciously trying to shrink away. “Sorry, but my C-Carla likes that I fight. She’s glad that I-I’m learning. And I _am_ i-improving.”

Karla snorts dismissively. “If you say so.” She pats his shoulder one more time, then stands. “I’m just looking out for you. Now, I think a shower is calling my name. Think about what I said, Lenny.”

He doesn’t. In fact, he tries to forget about it.

* * *

“My leg is a-acting up again,” Len quietly says, half to himself. Their Carlas are down in the lower levels of the vault helping with some technical problem, but they had stayed behind in their room. He stretches out his left leg and winces.

“You g-got injured there once?”

Len nods, something dark in his face. “I g-got shot.” He pauses and looks to the side.

“Wh-what?” Lenny prompts, sensing a story. He knows that look. That’s an expression he knows he’s worn on his own face countless times, when he’s thinking about something bad. A certain set of his shoulders when he’s afraid to say something.

“C-Carla shot me,” Len whispers, his hands fisted in the bedsheets, his head down. “I w-was stupid, I w-was going to leave.”

When the sirens started wailing all those years ago, when Lenny looked west to the Los Angeles skyline and saw a mushroom cloud instead, his stomach had dropped faster than those bombs. His heart does that now.

Like he’s dealing with a scared animal, he sits next to Len and takes his hands. “She sh-sh-ot you?”

Len nods and bursts into hysterical tears. “She w-was going to join the Slavers,” he explains between hyperventilating gasps. “I told h-her I was going to leave, that I-I-I couldn’t take it anymore. She shot m-me in the leg to stop m-me from leaving, then she – she – she tied m-me up and, and hit me because I said some a-awful things-”

“Ssh.” Len hugs him, which is super weird but he’s hugging himself, he’s rubbing his own shoulders and squeezing tight. He doesn’t want to hear any of this. But he needs to know. Now that he knows, he feels a sick urge to know more, even as it drags him down and makes him angry. Not much incited his anger nowadays, but watching his look-alike sob and cling to him is lighting a fire under the simmering cauldron that is his slow temper.

Len falls asleep like this, like he’s used to crying himself to sleep. It’s terrible. It’s awful. Lenny has a few more adjectives to add to his mental list about Lenny, and one in particular for this other Carla, this _wrong_ version of his friend:

_Evil._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I forget that Lenny is. Old. I don't know if it was mentioned in canon how old he was when the bombs dropped, but my headcanon is anywhere from 27 to 29. Old enough to have gotten his medical degree and maybe practiced a little. Plus 164 years after that, that makes him almost two hundred years old. 
> 
> Sure, he's not the best fighter or the strongest guy, but he has a high Endurance and he can survive ghoulification and everything else that tries to kill you in the wasteland. Even as an in-game companion, he's one of the few that I've rarely had die during combat, even when he takes massive hits with almost no healing available. 
> 
> Also, it's my headcanon that his stuttering is something that actually mostly went away during his time at med school and the first few years of his practice, but it came back with a force after the War because of all of the intense stress he was going through.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a fair amount of blood/injury in this chapter, and major character death at the end.

This other Carla fights like a monster. There’s a ferocity there that, much as Carla herself would never admit it, frightens her. She’s bloody and ruthless and she has a temper that turns sharp as the blade of a dagger.

Is this…her? Is this Carla? Or is this just a part of her that has never come to light, but which has been forced out of her doppelganger by a different set of circumstances?

Carla doesn’t really want to know the answer. She admits that she’s distracted as they head back up to the Vault, then pack up and get back on the road. Destination: San Francisco Chinatown, with a wide detour around Mariposa.

If she hadn’t been distracted, she would have noticed that Lenny was nervous. Anxious but also grim, resolutely settling the sleeping Len’s head on his own shoulders as they buckle into their car seats. Lenny rubs his alternate twin’s shoulder. He meets Carla’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

Carla freezes in her seat, hand on the key in the ignition, the engine off. Something’s wrong. They need to talk in private. There’s a look in Lenny’s eyes that Carla doesn’t recognize, but that immediately sets off warning bells in her mind.

“Where did you say we were headed?” Karla, in the passenger seat, asks.

No time now to talk. Carla turns back to the road and starts the engine. “Reno,” she says. Lenny’s eyes widen. Carla can’t tell him it’s because she has allies there, because she feels safer. Chinatown can wait.

* * *

While they stretch their legs at an abandoned crossroads village, Karla touches Lenny’s shoulder to hand him a bottle of water.

Lenny jumps and whirls at her touch, quickly stepping back before meekly taking the water bottle with an apology and an excuse, his eyes averted.

From her spot checking the Highwayman’s tires, Carla narrows her eyes. Lenny is nervous. And Karla is the source of his worry. But pulling Lenny to the side would be suspicious right now, so Carla meets his eyes, gives him a small nod, and turns back to her inspection.

* * *

They have a few stolen moments, with Lenny giving the excuse that he needs to check Carla’s ribs, which had been injured a week ago.

“You don’t have to hide,” Karla quips. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Carla musters up a smile at the joke. “You know Lenny, he’s shy, is all. We’ll only be a sec.”

“Okay, if you insist.” Karla shrugs and throws an arm around Len’s shoulders. “Let’s hit the town. I want to see if Stuart could set up some sort of cool doppelganger match at the Jungle Gym.”

This leaves them alone. Finally.

“What’s wrong?” Carla urgently whispers, aware that they might not have much time to discuss this, whatever _this_ is.

In the dim light of the room, Lenny’s eyes look pale and shadows pool in the pits of his face, giving him a grim look. “It’s Len. K-Karla – she’s not – she doesn’t treat h-him right.” Lenny swallows hard. Carla takes his hands, more for her own comfort than his. “He’s not w-with her willingly, not really.”

One time, while exploring the second floor of an abandoned hospital, Carla had stepped on a rotted floorboard, and her leg had gone through the floor. Her stomach drops like that instant of shock, the terror of tumbling down. “She hurts him.”

Not a question, but Lenny nods anyways. “And not j-just physical.” He glances over his shoulder at the door, then back at her. “W-What do we do?”

What to do. What could they possibly do? Carla doesn’t want to rush into this, for fear that Len might somehow get caught in the middle. Should she confront her counterpart alone? Or should she go to Len first, try and do some damage control there?

Is this…her? Carla had gotten hung up on that question earlier, but now it makes her sick to even think about. Carla had known that her alternate universe twin’s violence meter was turned up to the extreme, but she had never imagined that it would draw in other targets.

This is _not_ her. Not in any way, shape, or form. Her grief and desperation had turned twisted, and it had corrupted this version of her into something unrecognizable.

“We fix this,” she promises. “We do what we need to do.”

* * *

Easier said than done. Carla doesn’t even get the chance to properly plan anything, because Karla is more perceptive than expected.

“So what were you two scheming about back there?” She asks, leaning against the wall of their Reno hotel, face turned up towards the stars. She gives Carla a knowing glance out of the corner of her eye, long dark hair flowing over her shoulder.

Carla scoffs. “What? Do you mean when Lenny was checking out my ribs?”

“Yeah, ‘checking out your ribs’.” If anyone can muster up sarcastic air-quotes, Karla manages it. “I know you guys were talking about me. I could see it on your faces.”

Time for a convincing lie, good enough to fool herself. “Lenny was curious, is all. He didn’t mean anything by it. He didn’t want to ask you directly. You can be a little…intimidating.” Close enough to the truth.

Karla turns at this, raising one eyebrow. “Ask me about what?”

“He was just wondering, wanted to ask you about,” Carla rubs the back of her neck, not having planned that far ahead. “It’s just that you and Len are so affectionate…”

“Ah.” Karla leans back against the wall. “I see. And you two are more reserved. It’s just that he needs to know how much I care about him. All the time. If I don’t, I feel like we’re lacking, like it’s not as solid.” She sighs and looks up at the moon.

Carla looks up too, and tries not to tense up as Karla shifts closer. Stay calm. Figure out a plan.

“Carla.” They way Karla says her name, _their_ name, is soft and with the hint of a laugh. “I guess we’re not so similar after all. You’re a terrible liar.”

The knife sliding into Carla’s left shoulder is more sound than feel. Karla’s grunt of satisfaction as it sinks in, Carla’s choked gasp between parted lips as she raises her hand to feel at the wound, globs of blood running between her fingers. A scream of her name as Lenny rounds the corner and sees her, Len at his shoulder.

“You really think I wouldn’t stoop to listening at the door?” Karla challenges, leaning in close to Carla, her hand still on the knife. “You think I don’t know all of my own tells, think I can’t tell when I’m planning something? For that matter, you were so naïve to think that I couldn’t tell _exactly_ why your dear Lenny was on pins and needles around me, why he got so nervous so suddenly?” She grins, all teeth and malice. “You think I didn’t ask my _own_ Len questions, see who he had been talking to and what about?”

Carla grits her teeth and shoots Lenny a look that warns him to stay far away. Things have come to a head, and now she needs to take care of business. But Karla didn’t aim to kill. She doesn’t just want to kill Carla, she wants to scare her, to draw it out. She wants a _fight._

“Well?” Karla is getting impatient with her lack of audible response.

“Clever.” Carla puts her hand around Karla’s waist. “But if you want to dance, all you have to do is ask.”

This makes Karla laugh aloud, all sharp lines of her neck and chin. It’s all the distraction Carla needs.

“Alright, Carla dear,” Karla takes her hand off the knife still sticking out of Carla’s shoulder. “Let’s dance.”

Ironically, the first part is not unlike a dance. They separate and circle each other, Karla like a predator and Carla wary, watching every move and ready to defend. Carla rolls her left shoulder experimentally. It hurts, obviously, but she can move it a little. But since her arm is slowly going numb from the pain, she’s not going to have use of it for long.

It’s the most obvious weak spot, and Karla takes the opportunity. Another small knife towards Carla’s left side ribs. Instead of trying to duck away or block, however, Carla darts in close and punches Karla in the face, hitting her nose with a sickening but satisfying crunch.

Karla shouts and recoils, choking on the blood flowing from her nose. She gets in a good slash across Carla’s arm, which barely even hurts because of how numb that side is becoming.

“Back off,” Carla warns, shaking out her arm. “I don’t want to have to kill you.”

“Had enough already?” Karla’s grin has turned feral. She wipes blood from her broken nose and snarls. “I haven’t even gotten started yet.” Then she attacks.

Between dodges and strategic maneuvering to get injured in non-vital areas, Carla thinks. She doesn’t want to kill Karla, she doesn’t want to kill _anyone_ on a good day. But she’s also not stupid. Karla isn’t acting with such restraint. She’s clearly aiming for ‘kill’, even if she’s taking a detour through ‘maim’ on the way. This situation is not going to be resolved through peace. Even if Carla managed to get the upper hand and knock Karla out, what would she do then? Leave her and look over her shoulder until the day where she comes for revenge?

They pull back to catch their breath. Carla’s is more labored than her evil twin’s.

“You sure like knives, huh?” She challenges, one hand pressed against the side of her ribs.

To Carla’s credit, Karla looks terrible too. In addition to her broken nose, she has a black eye and torn clothing. She’s limping slightly, her right ankle likely broken, and she’s holding her jaw in a way that suggests that might be fractured. Her right shoulder is at an odd angle. She says nothing, probably because of the aforementioned jaw injury. Her glare is answer enough.

She glances over at Len and Lenny. Len is hoarsely screaming Karla’s name, struggling against Lenny, who is holding him back. Lenny nods at Carla. His eyes scream worry, but he musters a terse smile. He believes she’s going to win, or he would let Len try to interfere, to stop Karla.

Right, then. Carla needs to wrap this up, but it might take a risky maneuver to do so. But Carla’s nothing if not willing to take a big hit to protect her friends. She squares her shoulders. This fight has dragged on long enough.

So Carla gets reckless. Darting in close, doing big obvious hits before wearing Karla down with sly strikes in painful places. She avoids almost everything Karla throws at her, then deliberately does something stupid: looks over at Lenny as he makes a noise.

Predictably, Karla takes the bait. Normally, Carla would make an effort to stay on her feet, to brush off the wound, but instead she goes down, curling up around the monstrous dagger buried under her ribcage. She groans and looks up at Karla with tears in her eyes.

“Just finish me off,” she growls.

Karla is barely standing herself. “Gladly.” She draws the pistol at her hip and, with one fluid movement, aims it at Carla’s head and pulls the trigger. Lenny or Len, hard to tell when their voices sound identical, shrieks Carla’s name.

The gun clicks, empty of ammunition.

In any other circumstance, the look on Karla’s face would be hilarious. Priceless. Carla musters up a weak smirk and slides the pickpocketed clip of Karla’s gun across the ground. Then she draws her own gun and fires.

There’s no satisfaction when Karla’s body hits the pavement, no feeling of triumph or glory. Which is good. If Carla felt glee when she killed someone, she’d quickly turn into a monster. She’s seen firsthand what happens when she lets violence take over her naturally caring personality. The sight of death makes her sick, dizzy and weightlessly numb.

Well, that last part is the blood loss. As soon as Carla slumps, Lenny is at her side strapping a Super Stimpack to her arm and stabbing two Stimpacks into her body, one in her chest and the other in her left arm.

“Are y-you okay?” He demands, already pulling out his extensive first aid kit.  

She nods and spits out some blood. Those two actions contradict each other, but she manages to sit up with Lenny’s help, then with some effort, stand. “I’ll be fine. Just a few scratches.” She winces. “And some serious stab wounds.” She has to raise her voice to be heard.

Len is wailing, having collapsed at Karla’s side after Lenny had released him. He’s cradling her corpse, uncaring of the blood that seeps into his clothing and soaks his knees. His voice breaks into gasped pleas, repeating Karla’s name over and over, begging “no” and “don’t” and “why, why, why”.

He’s not the only one crying. To Carla’s shock, her own Lenny is sobbing into her shoulder, fingers digging into her numb arm.

“Len-Lenny?” She whispers, confused. Is he crying over _Karla?_

He must sense the unspoken question in her voice. “I c-can’t even imagine – if it h-had been _you_ instead, if I – if I had to w-watch you die and not be a-able to do _anything_ to s-save you. It w-wouldn’t even matter h-how bad or terrible you w-were, because it’s y-you, and to – to lose _you-”_ He scrubs his eyes, uncaring of the flakes of skin that sloughs off. “Nobody deserves to go through that. I don't deserve that.”

Too late, Carla catches the eerie calm in his voice and realizes what he’s doing. She grabs his arm just a second too late, pulls it down seconds after the gunshot rings out in the alleyway. Wrestles the pistol out of his hand and stares at him with wide eyes, unable to say anything. What to say? Why? How? Would she have had the courage, or the cowardice, to do the same?

The silence now is heavy and dripping down Carla’s slumped shoulders like melted wax. She stares at Lenny and he stares back. Even as he had done the deed so calmly, there’s a wild anguish in his eyes. It does something to Carla’s stomach. She lowers her eyes and hands the gun back. He holsters it.

They turn away from the grisly scene. If they had looked back while walking away, they would have seen that the two corpses had disappeared, as if they’d never been there in the first place.

This universe only needed one Carla and one Lenny. It could count itself lucky that it got to have this pair.

**Author's Note:**

> Really just an excuse for Carla to throw hands with her evil counterpart.


End file.
